DRAFT: Do Not Cite Without Permission

From the “Gayborhood” to the Small Town: LGBT Pride Organizations and the Mobilization of Resources, Culture and Symbolic Capital

Lauren Joseph

PhD Candidate Dept. of Sociology Stony Brook University

Contact Information: Dept. of Sociology University of Texas 1 University Station A 1700 Austin, TX 78751 [email protected]

DRAFT FEB. 2010

ABSTRACT

This paper explains the way that lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) Pride organizations grow and develop ties to their local communities, in a process that I term “external institutionalization.” LGBT Pride organizations engage in cultural resource mobilization practices, which simultaneously seek to generate financial resources as well as social and symbolic capital for a stigmatized sexual minority group. The research draws on extended, multi-sited ethnography to uncover the specific social practices through which this is accomplished on an everyday and local level within urban communities across the United States.

1 From the “Gayborhood” to the Small Town: LGBT Pride Organizations and the Mobilization of Resources, Culture and Symbolic Capital

In West Greenwich Village in New York City during the last week of June—the month nationally recognized as Gay Pride Month—it would be hard not to notice that a major event was about to hit the area. There are street pole banners flying on the lampposts, all around Midtown and Downtown Manhattan, announcing the coming of the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) Pride March and Festival. This year (in 2008) there are even more banners than seen in previous years, since The City of New York’s advertising company has designed and posted their own banners, further alerting tourists and locals about the upcoming festivities. The street pole banners have large swooshing rainbows and the logo of the organization that is in charge of putting on the Manhattan Pride events—Heritage of Pride, with its classic 1980s Keith Haring design. At the bottom of the banners are the names and logos of different corporate sponsors of the NYC Pride events, such as “Fuze”(a beverage company), The W Hotel, and Delta Airlines, each of which have paid thousands of dollars in direct financial support or products for exclusive sponsorship rights with Heritage of Pride. On the south perimeter of Union Square, near the West Village, the massive Virgin Records store’s windows are filled with a huge printed sign advertising Heritage of Pride and Pride Week, as well as announcing its own LGBT music festival to take place in front of their store on the last Sunday of June.

Starting a few days before the scheduled events, wandering into what could be called “Ground Zero” of where the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) March and Festival will take place—or what is affectionately referred to as the “gayborhood” of West Greenwich Village, near Christopher Street and the historic Stonewall Inn—you would see huge rainbow flags flying outside of the many gay bars and gay clothing stores that line the surrounding streets. Some of these establishments bring out the big flags for this special occasion, ones that dwarf the smaller but still conspicuous rainbow flags flown throughout the year. Many of the local stores and restaurants, even those that are not gay-owned or specifically geared toward a gay clientele, such as the local corner deli and the pizza joint that have been in neighborhood for more than twenty years, put out their own rainbow flags. These signal to the thousands of roaming tourists that their establishments are supportive of the festivities and, perhaps, deserving of patronage. Even the local post office on Hudson Avenue sports a modest rainbow flag, competing with the enormous flag flown outside of the most popular lesbian bars in the neighborhood next door. In the subways, during the few days before the event, the MTA (New York City’s official transit authority) posts printed signs in subway stations all around the city—in subway stations ranging from Queens to Brooklyn—informing interested travelers how best to reach the LGBT Pride events by underground transit, since travel aboveground on the last Sunday of June, with three quarters of a million people descending upon the March route and Festival area, would prove to be a formidable challenge for even an experienced local.

On 13th Street, near the heart of the West Village, throughout the month of June the LGBT Community Center’s main room has been booked for months ahead of time by different politicians. These include officials currently holding New York City positions as well as non-seated politicians interested in earning the attention of the gay community, from the City Comptroller to the Manhattan Borough President, all hosting Pride Month celebrations that involve long speeches and receptions. The Community Center’s main room, with a capacity of several hundred people, is packed to the brim on several of these evenings. Politicians proclaim their commitment to the gay community and honor local organizations and individual leaders that have served the community. Even the grand room 2 within City Hall in the Wall Street area of Manhattan, formal and plush with just a bit of peeling paint along the corners of the ceiling, is booked for a major Pride event during Pride Week. This one also has standing-room only, as the openly lesbian Head of City Council, against a backdrop of several American flags with a variety of flags from different nations, presides over the event, honoring different people who have contributed to the gay community and LGBT cultural life. This year the most heartfelt public tribute was made to a restaurant owner whose lease had failed to be renewed by the building owner, and who would be closing the doors to one of the most legendary LGBT community eateries and hangouts, one which has been a part of West Greenwich Village’s gay culture for decades.

During the month of June, hundreds of different cities across the United States host events that celebrate lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) Pride. Some of these events involve hundreds of thousands of people, such as the March that shuts down traffic for most of a day on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan in New York

City, while others are small picnics or festivals with only a few hundred or even a few dozen participants. In their most elementary form, Pride events are about promoting the healthy acceptance of one’s sexual or gender identity, the affirmation of individual and collective identity as LGBT people or allies, and about celebration and simply having fun with one’s peers in a public space. They are also about creating a time and place for the collective visibility of LGBT people who have historically been relegated to the dark corners of the public sphere. The phrase “out and proud” has special meaning during these days, in which the symbol of “the closet” is burst open by LGBT people taking over public space in a way that both symbolically and quite literally disrupts the quotidian operation of social life in that location.

The organizations that put on these marches and festivals seek to create an event that is—in the words of many of the organizers—“bigger and better” than the year before. The growth of the event is understood by the organizers and by public observers as symbolic of increased numbers of self-accepting and self-affirming

LGBT people, as well as the presence of allies who are willing to be visible on behalf of LGBT people in a society that stigmatizes non-heterosexual identities and sexual practices. These Pride events appear to be effervescently spontaneous; many of the participants display wild costumes and a little nudity at times, with outrageously-dressed drag queens and kings, as well as people holding brightly-printed signs with slogans publicizing their beliefs. There are also families present—both gay and straight—and the events typically

3 include a festival at which the attendees are entertained by local LGBT and allied musicians who provide the opportunity for a day of diversion and fun in the presence of like-minded people who are supportive of their sexual orientation and identity.

Pride events have become an annual public ritual of gay life, becoming what some in the LGBT community have lovingly referred to as “Gay Christmas.” In gay films, it is not unusual for the last scene in which the main character has fully come to accept his or her sexual identity to be shot in the middle of a Pride event, as that character celebrates his or her emergence into a new community. In “coming out” stories, the experience of stepping off the sidewalk and out into the street to join the Pride parade has been attributed with great symbolism; as I heard from one long-time member of a Pride organization say, for some people who are just coming to terms with their sexual orientation, the distance achieved between standing on the sidewalk

(watching the March) and stepping off to march in the street with the other marchers can represent “the biggest six inches of their lives.” Pride events have been described by LGBT people as transformative in their significance for the individual, ceremoniously asserting and affirming one’s sexual identity surrounded by thousands of cheering supporters.

The modern LGBT movement, as a whole, has incorporated a range of different strategic elements since the early years of organizing, from political lobbying to disruptive street activism and the publishing of

LGBT newspapers, of which the LGBT Pride movement is only one segment. The LGBT movement has always been simultaneously cultural, political and organizational, with its approaches as diverse as the organizations that fall under that label (Armstrong 2002; Adam 1987; Rimmerman 2002, D’Emilio 1998). Pride events have been commonly understood as community protest rituals, belonging to the category of tactics described by

Taylor and van Dyke (2004: 263) as “cultural forms of political expression such as rituals, spectacles, music, art, poetry, film, literature, and cultural practices of everyday life.” Pride events have become part of the standard tactical “repertoire” (Tilly 1978, 2008) of the LGBT social movement in cities across the United States and across the globe, a regularly occurring public performance that pulls together all of the elements of the gay community. It is also useful to think of Pride events through a historical perspective on parades and

4 ceremonies that, like other street theater, have long been interpreted as political actions and the rhetorical means by which a myriad of performers have attempted to accomplish both practical and symbolic goals

(Davis 1986: 5).

Yet, despite how spontaneous and collectively effervescent a Pride event may feel to the participant marching down the street or the spectator on the sidelines, Pride events are actually the complex and detailed makings of organizations that operate year-round. The events are very expensive to host, requiring massive amounts of manpower, labor, and attention to minute detail throughout the year in order to make them a success. Permits must be obtained, volunteers contacted and trained to staff the event, police departments mobilized for security, portable toilets and tents ordered and delivered, and local community boards meetings attended months ahead of time so as to solicit approval and maintain good relationships with neighborhood residents. Most importantly, massive fundraising is required for both the expenses incurred during the day of the event—such as food for the volunteers, stages and sound equipment for the festival performances, and advertising in various venues—as well as the enormous amounts of supplies, ranging from copy machines and printer paper, to office rent, to accountants and travel expenses, all necessary for the sustenance of an organization with sufficient internal capacity to put on such an event. While clearly not all Pride events are as large as the one that proceeds down Fifth Avenue and attracts three quarters of a million people, the financial and labor resources of an organization with the capacity to put on the event is essential to the staging of any

Pride event, relative to its size.

In some major cities in the United States, Pride organizations have been very successful in making themselves part of the urban fabric. The borough of Manhattan in New York City is the site of the first gay

Pride march in 1970 that commemorated the 1969 Stonewall Rebellion in which gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender bar patrons resisted arrested brought on by the illegal raid of a gay bar (the Stonewall Inn), and set off a riot that lasted several days, a day that has been marked as the birth of the gay rights movement. The quantity and intensity of organizing for gay rights soon after that event was unprecedented at the time, and brought the gay and lesbian movement from one populated by undercover and accomodationist associations

5 (such as the preceding homophile movement) to a social movement that had massive public visibility and the development of a sizeable organizational field in the following years within major urban centers.

The fruit of this long-term labor is undeniable; in terms of public visibility of LGBT identity in public space it is not difficult to find evidence of the way that some of the goals of the movement been incorporated in recent years, particularly in large major cities. In 1990, Heritage of Pride—the organization that was an outgrowth of the original Christopher Street Liberation Day Committee formed in 1970 to commemorate the

1969 Stonewall Riots—worked in conjunction with The Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) to turn the Empire State Building lavender (a color symbolizing LGBT identity) for the two days during the weekend of Pride. This is an arrangement that has continued annually to the present day, with the Building regularly turning lavender for two days each year since 1990. Heritage of Pride also worked with the Koch administration and the City Council in 1989 to permanently rename the streets around the site of the

Stonewall Rebellion in 1969 “Stonewall Place,” commemorating the historic event. These few streets, including the small public park located in front of the bar, draws in hundreds of thousands of gay tourists every year interested in seeing the site of the Rebellion. The LGBT Pride March and Festival, in this large urban setting, have become institutionalized into the urban fabric of the Manhattan community and the annual calendar of

New York City.

How does an organization representing a stigmatized sexual minority identity attain the kind of integration into the city that it takes to get a major community entity such as the Empire State Building to turn lavender for the weekend? Moreover, how do members of that organization, or organizations that labor toward that end product, understand their work? This is a study of the production of Pride events from the perspective of the organizations that work all year round to make the Pride events happen. Using a relational ethnographic approach to analyze the meanings, symbols, and decision-making processes of Pride event production, I illuminate the labor and innumerable choices that make up the daily reproduction of these organizations. Since decisions and their resulting effects are the product of both agency and environment, I argue that by analyzing the production of Pride we can learn a great deal about the contemporary state of

6 LGBT organizing and the relationship between LGBT organizations and the urban contexts in which they operate. We can also understand the process of institutionalization for a social movement whose constituents have historically been excluded from mainstream society.

All social movement organizations, including those such as LGBT Pride organizations, are embedded entities; they clearly do not operate in a social vacuum. Pride organizations must draw upon their local communities in order to produce these events; in doing so, they encounter institutional resistance as well as support, and they both change their communities and are structured by them at the same time as they engage in these processes. The everyday, quotidian operation of these Pride organizations reveals volumes of information about the local communities that support or resist them, the relationships between organizations and their communities, the state of LGBT organizing on a local level, and the meanings and symbols associated with the making of contemporary gay identity.

Drawing on a year-and-a-half of intensive ethnographic fieldwork and archival research on four LGBT pride organizations in three cities across the United States—New York City, Boise, Idaho, and St. George, Utah

—I watched as these organizations, in very different settings, interacted with their local communities to generate the necessary resources and public legitimacy to put on their events. These communities are very different contexts; consequently, each of the organizations had a different environment within which they had to operate in order to accomplish the same goal of staging a successful Pride event. Thus, by simply “hanging out” with the Pride members, sitting through their meetings, staying at their homes, becoming a formal member of one of the organizations, being privy to the arguments and the moments of elation as the events were successful or when the organizers encountered setbacks, and participating in innumerable fundraisers— from staffing carwashes and rummage sales in parking lots to attending fancy dinner-dances filled with local-, state-, and national-level politicians—as well as stuffing countless envelopes, decorating posters with colored markers, and attending informal parties and gatherings, I was able to learn what Pride is, what it means, and how it accomplished by the people who are responsible for making it happen, each under different urban social conditions.

7 Research on the LGBT parade as cultural form has focused almost exclusively on the day of the event and the experience of spectators or participants (Browne 2007; Brickell 2000; Kates and Belk 2001; Johnston

2007). In a rare ethnographic study that focused on the production of the Pride events as a social process,

Ward (2003, 2008) examined one case of Pride organizing in Los Angeles. She illuminates the conflict that emerged around the issues of cultural capital and skill between the working class organizers of the celebration and the local lesbian and gay professional community. While this research is useful for understanding the issues of contention for Pride in a highly developed gay community such as West Hollywood in Los Angeles, there is no research to date that uses a comparative perspective to examine Pride organizing across urban contexts.1

In order to explore the production of Pride events across urban settings, I conducted in-depth ethnography and archival research on four organizations in three different cities, including two organizations in New York City.2 The first was Heritage of Pride, located in Manhattan and responsible for putting on one of the largest Prides in the nation. The second was Queens Pride, a smaller organization in the nearby borough of

Queens which is highly racially and ethnically diverse, and whose Pride event gathers a few hundred thousand people for the parade and festival. I also conducted research on Southern Utah Pride in St. George, Utah, a small city whose politics and culture are dominated by the Mormon Church; their Pride events occur over a weekend and draw a few thousand people to the picturesque base of Zion National Park for two days and nights of festivities. Lastly, I spent time with Boise Pride, located in Boise, Idaho, a mid-sized city with an existing alternative subculture but whose political sphere is dominated by conservative Republican control with a strong Mormon influence. The organizations varied by size and by complexity, ranging from a few core members that organized events for just a few thousand people, to an organization that had a half-dozen operational committees, paid staff, and put on events that were for three quarters of a million people in the 1 In the larger study on which this paper is based, I discuss at length the discourse of “gay pride” and its relationship to “gay shame” (Gould 2001, 2002; Stein 2006; Halperin and Traub 2010). Limitations of space prevent me from doing so in this paper. 2 While the bulk of my ethnographic data comes from the two settings in which I spent the majority of my research time— Manhattan and St. George—I use the other two cases of Queens, NY and Boise, ID in order to triangulate my findings and prevent the drawing of simplistic comparisons between the two most dramatically different settings.

8 center of a metropolis. Moreover, the dramatic differences between the urban settings—from Manhattan with extensive gay infrastructure from gay bars to social clubs to gay street life, to St. George, Utah with almost no public gay life but an intensive network of underground friendships and connections within the gay community—provided for a unique set of “urban laboratories” to understand the relationship between organizations and their local urban community settings, and the ties that they develop under that set of conditions.

Understanding Institutionalization

My intellectual journey in studying Pride organizations was, to a certain extent, a process of working backwards from the New York City setting, to understand the process of institutionalization as organizations seek to and are successful (or fail) in becoming regular, established actors within their communities. How do

LGBT organizations reach the point at which their public identities are represented in major public buildings such as the Empire State Building? Why is that important to them? How do they understand their relationship with their host communities during this process of institutionalization? These answers were not readily available within the social movement (or gender and sexuality) literature that I encountered; the definitions of

“strategies” and “tactics” did not match the cultural processes that I was observing, ones that were everywhere in front of me as I observed the actions of Pride organizing. Social movement literature on resource mobilization theory was useful for understanding social movements as organizations that need to financially and structurally reproduce themselves within their environment, but tended to ignore the cultural meanings of the process of social reproduction. Yet the literature on culture and social movement activity focused primarily on the broad meanings of frames, symbols, and discourse—ignoring the very real and pressing activity of organizational reproduction within a community on a daily level, and how organizational growth might have its own symbolic significance for sexual minorities.

Thus, inductively constructing my central research questions directly from what I observed in the field in New York City, I asked: How and why do LGBT social movement organizations institutionalize? What exactly

9 does institutionalization entail? What strategies do small, new LGBT organizations use to both reproduce themselves and integrate themselves into their communities, and how do these strategies change as the organizations grow? What significance do those sets of community ties hold for the symbolic meaning of “gay pride,” and how do the members of those organizations understand their identities as social movement actors as they engage in practices?

Social movement theorists have, traditionally, treated institutionalization as the final stage before organizational death. Institutionalization has been identified as signaling the end of radical ideology and risk- taking in terms of goals and strategies, and is taken to mean that the organization has become co-opted and is no longer focused on creating significant social or cultural change. In fact, I began this study by imagining that the setting of New York was somehow the “end of that road”; that it had outlived its meaningfulness as a legitimate social movement organization. The events produced by Heritage of Pride had been critiqued by some detractors as having lost their relevance as civil rights events; now funded by massive corporate sponsorship, they were no longer “outsiders” or “challengers” to heteronormative, dominant culture that they had once been. Moreover, there were intimations within the gay media and more radical elements of the

LGBT community that Heritage of Pride had become disconnected from its grassroots origins, co-opted by copious amount of corporate funding, and become a showcase for politicians (for example, the Gay Shame movement—which expressed this sentiment—emerged briefly in the late 1990s (Halperin and Traub 2010)).

Thus, I initially sought out to explain how the most developed Pride organization—one with a budget of close to one million dollars, a hulking bureaucratic structure, and extensive corporate advertising—was somehow a

“perversion” of the original intention of radical Pride organizers as it was conceived in 1970. But as my research developed I realized that in fact the process of institutionalization itself instead signals organizational growth and survival. In fact, the point of Pride, I realized, was to become a regular, established actor within the community, and, especially, that the practices of growth, or the strategy of growth—as my Pride members would say, “bigger and better!” was not a distortion of the Pride approach, but was instead the central core of its cultural and political impact on society. It was the practices of growth—the process through which the

10 organization developed within its community—that has been its most effective and most important strategy of the Pride movement, which seeks to increase social acceptance for LGBT people. Moreover, as I continued to examine the practices of growth within the community as containing both instrumental and symbolic meanings, I saw the underlying connections between this concept of growth and the discourse of “gay pride,” as well as its historical relationship to gay shame.3

Through an analysis of Pride events over four different organizational contexts and in three cities, it becomes especially clear that the significance of the events is not the singular day of the event. Of course, organizers do view that day as very important, and it is certainly the ultimate focal point of their efforts—but, analytically speaking, the significance and social impact of Pride organizing is, to a large extent, the everyday process of growth out into the host community. The relationship between the organization and the local community, and how that relationship is extended by movement organizers through the development of connections geared toward making the day of the event happen, is where the real work of Pride happens. The day of the event—marked by a march, a parade, and/or a festival—is important for many LGBT people and their allies as a pleasurable moment, a moment of celebration of the diversity of sexualities and identity, and a crucial point of visibility for a marginalized and stigmatized group that has been made to feel shame over their identity. However, as I will demonstrate, the invisible practices of Pride organizations that significantly contribute to social change are in fact embedded in the growth that organizations accomplish as part of reproducing themselves, financially and through the accomplishment of daily logistical goals necessary for producing the events.

Moreover, particularly for some of the smaller Pride organizations within urban settings that do not have well-developed public LGBT communities, I argue that it is the process of raising funds by holding public

3 This is not to say that the critiques of Pride organizing, as presented by more grassroots and radical elements within the community, are not legitimate and do not express important concerns about the contemporary relevance of the events, the impact of corporate funding on the events, and even the logic of growth as a means of achieving social change. In the larger research project, I fully examine these contradictions and tensions and present an evaluation of this logic that takes seriously these critiques. However, my goal throughout this research has been to understand the process of institutionalization as it occurs through the efforts of those actively working within the Pride movement, and to explain how organizers of Pride achieve their goals as they conceive of them.

11 gay fundraising events, the gathering of various local and corporate sponsors, and the public doing of the daily activities of the organization that are crucially important for visibility and for generating stock of public support. Rather than seeing growth as a perversion or a detraction, drawing members’ attention away from the grassroots organizing classified in social movement literature as “real activism” (which, for traditional analyses might include, for example, the staging of protests or other contentious political activities), I argue that the process of growth of the Pride organization itself creates social change around the issue of sexuality through its enactment—and that this intricately involves the production of a relationship between the Pride organization and its local community. As I will demonstrate below, this concept of growth includes a building of various forms of social and symbolic capital by the organizations over time, as these groups engage in activities of organizational self-reproduction.

There has been some research in the area of the institutionalization of social movement organizations

(Staggenborg 1996, 1988; Landriscina 2007) suggesting that institutionalization is a process of growth and that the development of community ties may not be as perilous for the continuity of social movement organizations as previously assumed. Yet this association between institutionalization, growth, and the development of community ties has not been fully theorized—pointing to a lacuna in the social movement literature. In particular, I argue that more research on the institutionalization of cultural movements, movements that are specifically oriented toward improving the symbolic status of stigmatized social groups such as the LGBT community, is especially important, since they may follow different patterns than other movements specifically oriented toward concrete political or economic goals. Institutionalization may not, in fact, be as harmful to the continuity of successful social movement organizing as it was once thought to be— and, even more significantly, institutionalization should be understood as a strategy for social movement activity that has been underrated for how cultural movements accomplish their very broad and symbolically- oriented goals. This research seeks to build upon the existing research of key social movement scholars such as Staggenborg (1996, 1988) on social movement institutionalization by integrating cultural approaches

(particularly those that focus on the LGBT movement) such as that of Taylor and Rupp (1993), Taylor and

12 Whittier (1992), Johnston and Klandermans (1995), and Armstrong (2002) which are specifically oriented toward understanding the cultural and symbolic dimensions of social movement organizing, as well as resource mobilization theories that illuminate the importance of developing ties to community institutions.

Forms of Institutionalization: Distinguishing External from Internal Dimensions

“Institutionalization” is a very broad concept. Common usage of the word refers to making something part of a structured and established system, or to establishing something as a norm in an organization or culture.

Within social research, the concept has been used in every way, form, and permutation possible, the definitions for which conflict with each other, often do not dialogue with each other, and in fact refer to a number of different processes on a wide variety of micro-, meso- and macro-levels of analysis. Classic theories of organizations refer to internal processes of organizational development, drawing on analyses that looks at internal characteristics (Weber 1947; Michels 1949) while other theories consider external dimensions as well, focusing on the relationships between the organization and its environment (for example, Piven and Cloward

1977). “Traditional” institutionalism in organization theory (Selznick 1957) focuses the sphere of informal interaction within organizations, to show how informal structures deviate from and constrained aspects of formal structure and to demonstrate the subversion of the organization’s intended, rational mission (DiMaggio and Powell 1991:13). “Traditional” institutionalism was only labeled as “old” by the emergence of what has been called “new institutionalism in organization theory” in the last several decades. Neo-institutionalism focuses on the organizational sectors or fields in which organizations are situated, emphasizing the way that organizational forms and structural components of organizations are institutionalized across these fields, regardless of whether they are most efficient at accomplishing intended goals (DiMaggio and Powell 1983;

Meyer and Rowan 1977).

In this paper, I narrow in on one dimension of institutionalization to discuss LGBT Pride organizations as engaging in a process of external institutionalization, in which the organizations become regular, established

13 actors within a community by creating both instrumental and meaningful ties to various local and national cultural, commercial, political, civic, and market entities. This includes the development of : (1) ties between the social movement organization and local social, commercial, and cultural establishments, such as gay or straight bars, clubs, cafes, and churches, or other non-profit organizations; (2) links between the social movement organization and the political and civic sectors, which includes the presence of politicians at their events and the opportunity to use public space as well as having Pride Week events commemorated by various city government and political officials; and (3) connections between the social movement organization and the market economy, which points to the increasing role of corporate sponsorship in the Pride movement. As I will explain in more detail below, the development of these regular ties to various community and commercial institutions generate important stocks of social and symbolic capital that are important for creating widespread cultural attitudinal change around the issue of LGBT social acceptance, and they entail a crucial undercover pattern for how Pride organizations work toward their goals.

Both external and internal dimensions of institutionalization, in my evaluation, can be contained under the umbrella of resource mobilization theory, since they are complimentary dimensions of how an organization effectively produces and reproduces itself. This speaks to both the question of how organizations gather resources from the communities in which they are situated, and how they operate internally to ensure their survival as an organizational form with specific patterns of decision-making. In this study, I conceive of “institutionalization” (broadly written) as a process that outlines how organizations develop from small, isolated entities and grow into larger, more community-connected organizations, with functional means of accomplishing organizational tasks. I see resource mobilization theory, taken from the literature on social movements, as a very useful analytical tool that can help to take apart that double-sided process of development and illuminate it in detail. Only by combining institutionalization theory, resource mobilization theory, and cultural analysis of social movements, it is possible to clearly understand the operation and social impact of LGBT Pride organizations in contemporary American culture.

14 The Meaning of Mobilizing Resources: Resource Mobilization Theory and Culture

This research draws heavily on resource mobilization theory, which has been proven to be especially useful for narrowing in on the organizations that actually make up a social movement. First outlined in detail in a seminal article by McCarthy and Zald (1977), the fundamental idea that drives resource mobilization theory is that the aggregation of resources—mainly money and labor—is a key determinant of the emergence and success of collective action. RM theory thereby redefined the study of collective action to a study in organizational sociology, focusing on the organizations responsible for reproducing themselves and process of resource accumulation that make mobilization possible (Buechler 1993: 217-218; Jenkins 1983).

RM theory has been expanded upon in great detail since its dominance in the late 1970s—with a vast collection of studies outlining the various types and sets of resources that might be utilized by social movement organizations (see, for example, Cress and Snow 1996; Oliver and Marwell 1992; Edwards and

McCarthy 2004b). Yet the basic tenets of RM theory remain refreshingly straightforward, and are especially useful for an analysis of the institutionalization of the LGBT Pride movement. I focus here on two fundamental elements within the theory: (a) the emphasis on internal organizational structure and (b) the relationship between the organization and entities outside the organization, which includes a multitude of community and commercial institutions.

First, since resources must be controlled or mobilized before action is possible, RM theory directs the analysis toward an organizational perspective of social movements. Zald and Ash (1966) were the first to note that social movement organizations are unique entities and form an essential basis for mobilization.

Specifically, resource aggregation requires some minimal form of organization of people with at least some nominal structure for accomplishing tasks, both in order to acquire external resources (such as money) and to manage those resources internally, however limited the organizational structure may be. Essentially, the resource mobilization perspective analyzes the strategic tasks that need to be accomplished in order to produce success. Thankfully, RM theory is flexible enough to discuss small, informal organizations with little

15 structure, focusing on how members in these entities go about accomplishing their goals, yet also provides a set of tools of analysis for large, bureaucratic social movements, recognizing that some social movement organizations (SMOs) have developed into highly complex organizational forms.

Second, in accounting for a movement’s success or failure, RM theory explicitly recognizes the crucial importance of involvement on the part of entities (both individuals and organizations) from outside of the collectivity which a social movement represents (McCarthy and Zald 1977:1216). Since the flow of resources to the organization is viewed as very important, and often these forms of support do not come exclusively from members, the theory connects the organization to the setting from which it draws its resources— whether those resources are financial, labor, facilities, or other. The RM perspective is very sensitive to the important role that the environment (writ small, as in the organization’s local community, or large, as in a set of national economic or political conditions) plays in the ability of the social movement to sustain itself. Many other perspectives in social movement theory ignore the ways that movement organizations can utilize the environment for their own purposes. But RM theory highlights the fact that society— whether that entails the local context, the state, or the national or global setting—provides an essential infrastructure on which the organization can rely to draw in resources and conduct its movement activities. The work that organizations perform within their communities, and especially the relationships that organizations develop to their local communities, determine the flow of resources to the organization.

Limitations of Resource Mobilization Theory: Integrating Culture and Process

While RM theory recognizes that an interaction occurs between organizations and their communities as they gather resources, I find that this theory is limited in its ability to analyze the cultural meanings of those different forms of resources. While it certainly distinguishes between large donors and small donors, or recognizes the difference between professionalized organizations and ones run primarily on paid labor (Oliver and Marwell 1992), the myriad of ways that organizations draw resources from those communities has not

16 been fully theorized. Moreover, when researchers using the RM perspective claim to examine the intersection between culture and resources they tend to interpret culture as conceptual tools and specialized knowledge that have become widely known. This includes tacit knowledge about how to accomplish specific tasks like enacting a protest, holding a news conference, running a meeting, or forming an organization, pointing to such conceptual resources tactical repertoires, organizational templates, technical or strategic know-how (Edwards and McCarthy 2004a). By focusing on culture and resources in this limited way, it obfuscates the social significance of different types of resources and the social and symbolic capital that social movement organizations gain by garnering resources from certain kinds of entities. Although some RM theorists discuss

“legitimacy” as a resource that contributes to the success of social movements there is more work to be done to explain how legitimacy is produced and the symbolic meanings of different resources.

I draw on RM theory in my research to look at Pride organizations as entities that must rely on relationships they develop with their communities. Some quantitative or post-facto research that uses RM theory points to the success or failure of certain social movements by noting the presence or absence of certain resources: the amount of money raised, membership rolls, or other similar indicators. But by aggregating those resources, we inevitably lose the ability to analyze, in a contextualized, relational sense, what those relationships of resource accumulation mean for the organizations that are concerned with reproducing themselves over time.

By engaging in an ethnographic study of Pride organizational development, however, I have been able to capture RM as a process—focusing on the meanings and symbolic forms of these different sets of resources

—rather than simply producing a quantitative account of the amount of money or volunteer hours that were available to them, and obscuring the process of building resources through the development of on-going relationships. To know, for example, that the Southern Utah Pride organization received as a sponsorship

$3,000 worth of advertising credit in their city’s local newspaper is one piece of dry, quantitative information.

Given that this newspaper was known to be highly socially conservative, and had been very unsupportive in the past of the Pride organization (insofar as it was steadfastly unwilling to report on the organization’s

17 previous events or provide advertising credits in the past), this would have thought to be clearly a coup for the organizers, and marked down in the record books as a major development in breaking down barriers for the organization. However, by finding out the stories behind this arrangement—in this case, the struggles that the organization’s leaders endured when the newspaper’s editors later decided that they did not want to honor the agreement that the organization had established with one gay-friendly employee who no longer worked at the newspaper, and the debate that ensued over when the organization wanted to display the newspaper’s logo as a sponsor on the organization’s website—we see a far more complex narrative that is as much about symbolic meaning as it is about advertising dollars.

More specifically, what I argue is that this process of resource mobilization is not just the collection of money, but is instead a system of relationships, relationships between the Pride organizations and the different sources of resources. In this way, and by having a deep understanding of the context in which the

Pride organizations are operating, I seek to reveal the meanings and cultural significance of the particular relationships they are building. Specifically, I point to the fact that the vast difference in urban context between St. George, Utah and downtown Manhattan means that each of the relationships that the organizations build need to be considered within context of that setting. For instance, in St. George, Utah, the organization encountered significant challenges in locating a commercial space willing to host a Saturday night fundraising dance for the LGBT community. They were lucky to find one local coffee shop (already considered to be a deviant institution in Utah since drinking coffee is not permitted within the Mormon religion) that would allow them to hold their events in that establishment, as well as one alternative/sustainable living community that was owned, in part, by a gay man who would allow the use of its café and theater area for

Pride fundraising events. Yet in New York City, options for where to hold a fundraising event were endless; they had access to both an extensive gay urban infrastructure that included innumerable gay bars and clubs as well as an array of major non-gay-identified commercial entities. One such example is the Six Flags amusement park that cooperated with the Heritage of Pride organization to host their annual fundraiser at their establishment. It was very well attended, drew in approximately $50,000 as revenue for the

18 organization, and turned the normally family-filled amusement park—in the words of one member—“entirely gay for a day, which was incredible!”

Standard RM theory helps point us toward the fact that connections to one’s community is important, but it also falls short in having the cultural tools to analyze how and why connections are successful or unsuccessful in developing within particular communities. Gamson (1987, p. 6) notes this weakness by noting that while RM theory is useful for its emphasis on organizations and tangible resources, what has been obscured are the cultural factors involved in the emergence or evolving of social movements and their sustaining organizations. It provides little analysis of cultural trends, even when it is trying to predict the future of social movements.

By drawing on the evidence I find in this research study, I propose the use of a new term, the “cultural resource mobilization perspective,” that integrates both a cultural and a resource mobilization approach to analyzing social movements. Cultural approaches to social movements, epitomized in the “new social movement” theories that developed in order to account for more recent movements such as the women’s, environmental, and LGBT movement, focus their attention on the construction of collective identity necessary for movement emergence and the production and maintenance of meaning for constituents, antagonists, bystanders and observers (Polletta and Jasper 2001; Melucci 1989; Taylor and Whittier 1992). Cultural perspectives “treat interests and identities as politically constructed, define social movements broadly, see the state as one among many possible targets for social movement action, see the instrumentality of cultural strategies and the culturally constructed character of instrumental action, attend to the cultural creativity of movements, and understand that while movement action is ‘meaningful,’ it is not always ‘rational.’”

(Armstrong 2002: 7-8). Since the LGBT movement has historically drawn heavily on cultural performances as part of its tactical repertoire to assert identity claims and to promote particular goals (Taylor et al. 2010), any analysis that ignores the cultural dimensions of this movement would be limited in its ability to explain the impact of this movement.

19 However, rather than just seeing the one day of the Pride event as a cultural performance worthy of analysis, I argue that the everyday process of resource mobilization that the Pride organizations engage in are also important means through which LGBT people enact cultural change around the issue of sexuality and social acceptance. Given that the subjugation of LGBT people is enforced by their invisibility, a fundraising event held by a Pride organization in their local coffee shop, the flyers about a Pride event posted in their local supermarket, advertisements in mainstream (non-gay) media publications, sponsorship by a major corporation whose headquarters is in that city, or the presence of a major pizza chain at their Pride festival, disrupts the heteronormativity of public space and/or the homonormativity of gay space at gay events, and creates ties between mainstream and LGBT communities that operates on a cultural level in the same way that other cultural strategies of social movements have done in the past. The process of cultural resource mobilization chips away at institutionalized homophobia by incorporating mainstream cultural institutions into gay culture and gay culture into mainstream society. In this way, we can see external institutionalization as a form of cultural movement strategy that the LGBT Pride community employs, through routine activities that are intended to financially reproduce the organization and simultaneously provide socializing activities for the

LGBT Pride community throughout the year.

Pride organizations are also important for the development of LGBT collective identity and social networks within communities in which there are few other options for gay socializing. In St. George, Utah, one member of the organization in her early twenties who grew up in the area and felt like she “was the only gay person in the universe,” noted: “Southern Utah Pride [the organization] is the center of the gay community here. I mean, they host the drag shows and stuff, and that’s how people find out that there’s actually gay people here! Hosting events—they are the basis for the gay community, essentially. That’s how I found most of my gay friends, through Pride.” Clearly, as this young person points out, the routine, instrumental fundraising activities of the organization provide symbolic and collective identity functions that cannot be explained by using only resource mobilization theories; an analysis must also take into account the non- rational, culturally-productive aspects of Pride organizing.

20 Social and Symbolic Capital in External Institutionalization

The cultural resource mobilization perspective that I elucidate here shows that resource accumulation is a process of building not only the necessary financial support to put on the events, but also the building of social and symbolic capital. Symbolic meanings are a crucial part of the resource mobilization process, despite the lack of attention to this cultural dimension in previous RM analyses. This collecting of various forms of social and symbolic capital is particularly important for a stigmatized sexual minority that has historically been victim to social denigration, and the building of various forms of capital can contribute to the improvement of conditions for this minority group within their communities. While some theorists in the RM traditional point to “legitimacy” in their theories of resource mobilization, I provide here a more complex and articulated explanation of how legitimacy is built by members of stigmatized groups, and use language that is particularly appropriate to the linking of real connections between various community institutions and the symbolic forms in which capital is gathered. I connect concrete ties between entities and a symbolic realm that accounts for the meanings of those forms of capital.

Specifically, I argue that social capital in the context of LGBT Pride organizations is a set of ties that are based on the instrumental relationships of financial or other concrete support—in the form of sponsorships, in which corporate or local companies, small independent businesses, politicians, or individuals give money as contributions to the Pride organization in exchange for their logo or name on the organization’s website, on banners displayed during the Pride events, or by verbal mentions during their events, including fundraisers, or in the form of allowing the organization to use their space for a fundraiser or other event for free or at a reduced cost. Social capital is a set of connections, or social ties that are built between the organization and various entities that are interested either in supporting the organization for altruistic purposes and/or for purely economic marketing purposes, in hopes that the gay community will patronize their establishment, or vote for them, or choose their product over another product.

21 While there are a number of different theorists that expand on the uses of social capital for a variety of explanatory purposes (see, for example, Coleman 1988; Portes 1998, 2001; Lin 2001; Small 2009), Pierre

Bourdieu (1992, 1998, 2001) provides a comprehensive explanation of the most basic function of social capital.

He notes: “Social capital is the aggregate of the actual or potential resources that are linked to possession of a durable network of more or less institutionalized relationships of mutual acquaintance and recognition—or in other words, to membership in a group—which provides each of its members with the backing of the collectivity-owned capital, a ‘credential’ that entitles them to credit” (2001: 102-3). He continues later to note that the network of relationships that comprise social capital is the product of “investment strategies,” that are either individual or collective, and conscious or unconsciously aimed at establishing or reproducing relationships that are directly usable in the short or long term (2001: 103). This produces “durable obligations subjectively felt,” such as feelings of gratitude, respect, or friendship, and reproduced through an “alchemy of consecration” created through the exchange of gifts, words, or other such social niceties, and which both presuppose and produce what Bourdieu refers to as “mutual knowledge and recognition” (ibid.) It is this association between the investment of resources, in which creating working relationships are created between two entities (such as a corporation or a local business and the Pride organization) that results in recognition which illustrates the logic Pride organization utilize when they pursue external institutionalization as a cultural strategy.

“Recognition,” however, refers to an additional concept that Bourdieu provides for us as a theoretical link that can help explain how external institutionalization works. Here it becomes evident that for social capital, in this case, produces symbolic capital—in the form of a public display of support from sponsors or supporters that indicate social acceptance by that entity. The presence of corporate logos on the organization’s website or on a banner during the Pride events, or the opportunity to host a gay event at a mainstream community establishment, has not only a financial benefit but a symbolic import as well. Symbolic capital, in this context, is a representation of legitimacy, a demonstration of one’s connections to various community institutions that have different stocks of social credit, recognizable to those with the ability to

22 perceive their social significance. Corporate sponsorship by major companies, such as airlines like Delta or

American Airlines, or by local entities—such as restaurants, travel agencies, newspapers, bookstores, or other sorts of local businesses, as well as local politicians—within smaller communities in which the people doing the perceiving would recognize that entity, are sought after by Pride organizations not only for the financial benefits they may receive but for the legitimacy that they provide on a symbolic level. Legitimacy, in the form of symbolic capital, represents social acceptance for a stigmatized group that has long been on the outside of the mainstream heteronormative center.

Moreover, these symbolic benefits are generative and build upon each, with each sponsorship or display of support generating additional symbolic legitimacy that can potentially lead to larger and more extensive support. When I asked a member of the Southern Utah Pride organization why she focused on companies as sponsors, she answered “Because companies like to be advertised. If we can get Taco Bell to be on our banner, people will recognize that business.” When I asked why that matters, that people recognize that business, she answered:

It’s acceptance. Like, if we can get Taco Bell to say it’s okay [to be gay], then Taco Time might say it’s okay. It’s like—it becomes like a competitive thing, between them. Down here, so many of our businesses are local-owned; they’re not franchises. So, if Marv’s, who’s well- respected in the Mormon Church, if he has an open-enough mind to support this, and say, I [referring abstractly to any member of the St. George community] know he’s a great guy, and I know that all of his daughters went through the Temple but he still thinks it’s okay, then it might be okay for, say, The Bear Claw to support us. And more than that, when the straight people go by and think, “oh, those nasty gays over there!” and they see the sign and they say, “ohhh, Marv’s is on that sign…guess I shouldn’t trash-talk gays at Marv’s…” and maybe even they might talk to Marv and say, hey, what’s your point of view on this? Like, the more that we have the community accept us, the community businesses accept us, it’s more identifiable to individuals. Not to mention that it kinda gives us, as a group of gay people, an idea of how many people out there actually do support us.

Thus, the goal of the organization is not only to gain financial capital through social ties, but also to earn symbolic capital as they collect and display public, visible support by important capital-holders within the community, such as a restaurant-owner who is well respected by church-goers. Moreover, as she mentions, it also signals to LGBT people that they have support within their community, acting

23 again as a symbolic form of capital that can help to alleviate some of the shame that LGBT people feel about their sexual and gender identities.

Conclusion

In order to explain the “why” of social action through ethnographic inquiry, one must focus on the “how” (Katz

2001, 2002)—the practices through which the object of interest is produced through daily practice. In my research, I see the patterns of external institutionalization as intimately connected to how the organizers seek to produce gay pride within their community. Organizers of the Pride movement engage in external institutionalization as a means of collecting social and symbolic capital that will earn them public legitimacy as sexual minorities. Through developing connections with local commercial, cultural, political, and civic entities the Pride organizations seek to establish themselves as legitimate and non-deviant community members. The practice of external institutionalization by Pride organizations is the way that they go about producing gay pride as a form of symbolic capital, and as the organizations generate increasing amounts of symbolic capital they are able to progress in their modes of resource accumulation toward institutionalization within their communities.

This research seeks to explain the process of external institutionalization for cultural social movement organizations, focusing on the way that LGBT Pride organizations grow and develop ties to their local communities and their efforts to earn social and symbolic capital through that process. While the promotion of public visibility and positive self-identity for a stigmatized and excluded minority group has been the cornerstone of the Pride movement, this analysis seeks to explore the practices through which this is accomplished on an everyday and local level within particular communities. The larger research project on which this paper is based engages a more complex examination of the discourse of “gay pride”—particularly as it relates to “gay shame”—as it has been constructed within the LGBT Pride and other LGBT movements.

24 It is also important to consider the symbolic meaning of Pride organizations and the utility of symbolic capital for making real social change, particularly around the issue of sexuality. What does it mean to have the

Empire State Building lit lavender for the weekend? How do we account for this, in understanding the effect of cultural movements for sexual and gender equality? There are critiques of the Pride movement for being accomodationist and contributing to a process of mainstreaming and de-radicalization, and being overly capitalist in their efforts to earn legitimacy and privileges through the corporate market rather than through political organizing. In the larger project, I suggest different ways of thinking about cultural change that take into account the goals of the movement versus the expectations of activists who have different kinds of goals.

Ultimately, Pride organizing challenges our definitions of what we think of as political, what we think of as cultural, our understandings of “community” and how community can be mobilized to create cultural change, and our visions of what “resources” mean for a cultural social movement. Adding to theories on resource mobilization and cultural movements oriented toward changing attitudes towards sexuality, expanding those definitions so that they can account for what is currently a massively popular movement—found within thousands of cities across the country and around the world—is necessary if we are to also understand the contemporary twists and turns of the wider LGBT movement that operates outside of the courts and the legislature.

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